


Ornament

by minervamoon



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), 6000 Years of Slow Burn (Good Omens), Christmas Decorations, Christmas Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 20:01:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21834388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minervamoon/pseuds/minervamoon
Summary: More winter/holiday fluff.  'Tis the Season.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 14





	Ornament

“All I’m saying is, you don’t even want people in here, so why bother decorating?” asked Crowley as he wobbled precariously on a ladder and laid boughs of real pine on the tops of the bookcases. “And why am I always helping you?”

“I like the holiday and I buy the alcohol,” said Aziraphale as he looked at the undecorated tree he’d just placed. It was in a spot amongst the stacks that, while it could be seen from the windows, wasn’t prominent enough to look inviting. “What do you think? Is here a good spot?”

“It’s fine,” said Crowley, not looking.

“You’re not looking,” said Aziraphale, not looking at Crowley to see if he was looking at the tree.

“It’s in the same place it’s been every year since you started putting out a tree.” Crowley was still not looking, one particular bough was wanting to roll out of place. He took it in his hand and glared. “Listen here you,” he hissed to the offensive bit of greenery. “I have a garbage disposal and I’m not afraid to use it. There’s plenty more where you came from and I’m sure they’d be happy to cooperate.”

“Did you say something?” 

“No,” said Crowley. He placed the bough and it stayed put. “Good,” he muttered, surveying his work. He climbed down and opened his mouth to say he was done when Aziraphale placed a box of ornaments in his arms. “No.” Crowley passed the box back. “Not again. You had me up there all day last year. ‘No, not there. There!’” mimicked the demon nasally.

“Well, it’s not like I can trust you to put out the nativity properly,” sighed Aziraphale, giving the box back.

“I was just being accurate!”

Aziraphale pointed to the tree, where the ladder Crowley had just been using had moved to. Crowley sighed. Aziraphale patted him on the shoulder cheerily. “And while you get started on that, I’ll start mulling the wine.”

“Or you could just bring me the wine,” muttered Crowley as he started going through the ornaments. Aziraphale had been collecting them for about as long as he’d been putting up the tree. One each year. The box didn’t hold them all, Crowley wasn’t quite sure where Aziraphale had them all stashed. This box only held the most recent years and a few special ones, like the one from his very first tree. Crowley knew that one instantly. A little angel of white cloth and real feathered wings. Crowley knew exactly how it was still perfectly, spotlessly white after about two hundred years. Frivolous miracles indeed. 

Crowley started with the angel, he always did. He placed it near the top, he always did. It wasn’t big enough to be the topper, but it just seemed to fit there no matter how the other decorations changed. He was almost done when Aziraphale returned with two mugs of warm, mulled wine. Decorating went much faster when Aziraphale wasn’t hovering. 

“That’s looking rather nice,” said Aziraphale as Crowley took one of the mugs.

“Yeah, well,” murmured Crowley. “It better not get out that I’m doing this for you.”

Aziraphale gave him a small smile. “It never has.” He took a sip of his wine. “Oh, I almost forgot. I have a new ornament.”

“Of course you do,” said Crowley softly, though he took Aziraphale’s mug when it was passed to him so the angel could go dashing off for the new trinket. He returned with it cupped in his hands, smiling in excitement. Crowley watched him go straight to the tree and put it near the top, next to the cloth angel. Crowley stepped closer to see what it was. 

It was an apple, glossy red with a bright green leaf on the stem, and wrapped around it was an equally glossy black snake. Crowley took a large sip of his drink to cover his surprise, then realized it was Aziraphale’s. He swallowed guiltily. “Where the heaven did you find that?”

“Oh, a small little shop I happened by a week or so ago. It’s handmade,” said Aziraphale proudly.

“Not very Christmassy, is it?”

“Well, truth be told, it wasn’t originally an ornament, just a little bobble. I added the string.”

Crowley wanted to ask him why he would want something like that on his tree. Christmas wouldn’t even need to exist if he hadn’t done the bit with the apple in the first place. But instead, he asked, “Time for the star then?” He probably didn’t want to know the answer anyway.

Aziraphale smiled and got the star out, white and gold and sparkling, and climbed up the old ladder to place it on top. After he climbed down they both looked the tree over. “Quite lovely,” said Aziraphale, taking his mug back. He frowned at the noticeable drop in liquid.

“Just one thing,” said Crowley and he snapped his fingers. Tiny white lights sprang to life on the tree and around the shop, tangled in the pine boughs. Aziraphale gasped and turned in a slow circle. Crowley walked away and sat down in his usual spot, watching the angel’s delight.

Aziraphale smiled at him. “Just admit it, you like the holiday too.”

Crowley didn’t reply, he just sipped his wine and watched the lights play in Aziraphale’s eyes.


End file.
